Find A Better Road
by Melody123
Summary: No-one in the Turks know Tseng's real past, except Vincent Valentine; the man who rescued him. Rated for themes. please enjoy!


_Hey guys! Just updated this story... it's one I wrote for a assessment piece and decided that the only way I could bear writing it was to write a piece of disguised fanfiction :P anyway, hope you enjoy!_

Find A Better Road

The thin-faced boy digs hopelessly through the rubble in the rapidly fading light. Tears make pale tracks down dirty cheeks, dripping unheeded onto a tattered green t-shirt.

"Mum! Mum, where are you?" The sobs seem to tear themselves out of the boy's mouth, dragging raw, bleeding heartache with them.

I watch this orphan-boy dig, with my hands clenched impossibly tightly behind my back. My nails are almost drawing blood in the opposite palm. I shift my weight onto my uninjured right leg, and I am suddenly aware of the weight of the gun on my hip. My job. I tear my eyes from his tortured form and scan around, slowing taking in the twisted metal, broken bricks and shattered glass that surrounded me. A city destroyed with one simple explosion. _Did the boy live here, in this pile of rubble?_

The boy is digging harder than before, ripped hands desperately shoving large chunks of rubble out the way. He has no care for the blood dripping scarlet tears from his fingers, or the sweat running down his forehead, making his dusty black hair stick together in muddy clumps. His sobbing pants fill the air, mingling with the crackling of fire and the harsh whisper of the wind. This boy has more purpose than this entire war.

A pale hand appears in the pile of destroyed building. A few more chunks of concrete reveal a face. She would have been beautiful; palest skin, long eyelashes and delicate nose. Her eyes are closed; her lips have the pallor of a life lost. She is gone.

My worst fears are realized with the boy's scream of "Mum!" He throws himself over her limp form, and wraps his arms around her broken torso. He clutches her to him begging, pleading for her to tell him it's alright. _I don't think he realizes._

Suddenly her heads lolls back so far it almost hits her shoulders. He drops her, and a grotesque scream of horror cuts the twilight. The boy flings himself away from the body of his mother and collapses on his knees. He seems to fold in on himself, like someone has taken his soul. All I can do is watch the sobs devastate his skeletal frame.

The sky growls; a deep and throaty roar. A flash of lightening violently stabs the sky. A fat droplet of water falls, almost pausing before it hits concrete in front of my dull dark boots. More drops fall, increasing in speed until a fluid curtain is drawn across my vision. Through the wall of water, I see the boy lift his puffy face to the harsh leaden sky. I watch in stunned disbelief as the boy's face empties of emotion. Like his mother, his face is a blank mask of hard peace.

I grow more disturbed as he picks up a sharp piece of twisted metal. _That boy better not do what I think he's going to do_. Laying the razor-sharp edge across his neck, the boy glances up at me with hard onyx eyes. Daring me to make a difference for the first time in this god-forsaken war.

I find my voice and croak a greeting "Hey kid."

_Now what do I say?_ "I would regret that later on if I was you" I say casually.

Doubt gnaws its way into my gut, sparks of electricity run up and down my spine. _Is this boy beyond redemption?_

The boy just looks at me. Those hard onyx eyes reveal no emotion at my words.

"Your mum would not want you to do that, you know. Suicide is not why she brought you into this world."

The onyx eyes flash for a moment; a memory only he can experience. My heart thumps into my ears, and I rest my moist palms on my already soaked trousers. His chin rises, and black pools meet my eyes. Slowly he looks back at his skinny body, and the twist of metal clenched in a tiny hand.

_I tried_

I close my eyes in expectation of the bright splash of crimson blood. A few moments later I open my eyes, steeling myself for the harsh reality of this fruitless war.

The jagged piece of metal is slowly offered out to me in a shaking grip. My eyes widen slightly, and I walk on trembling legs over to the pile of rubble. I stop with a jolt at the bottom of the hill. My hand reaches out to the boy, and our hands meet. His eyes rise up to meet mine. My other hand moves to clasp the kneeling boy on the shoulder. The rain beats down around us, both of us reluctant to move out of this moment of shaky peace.

"Oi Valentine! Get your butt over here. We're leaving." A comrade yells in the distance.

The moment fractures, shattering like glass.

"Hey boy, what's your name? I'm Valentine. Vincent Valentine."

"Tseng," his voice is almost too soft to hear, but he lifts his chin to meet my eyes.

"Would you like to help me find a better road?"

My mind is made up; I'm leaving this war to the puppet masters and their toys.

He turns his head, one last look at his mother, lying broken on the pile of concrete and rubble. Tseng nods at me, tears pooling in his onyx eyes. One crystalline drop escapes and rolls down his cheek.

"Alright"

I stand, waiting for my boy. He takes my hand and we walk.


End file.
